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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818665">Flay Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Id/pseuds/Ms_Id'>Ms_Id</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Badster, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Cannibalism, Ecto-Body (Undertale), Incest, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Protective Papyrus (Undertale), Protective Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:55:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Id/pseuds/Ms_Id</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Gaster was scattered across time and space. He gave up a part of himself when he created Sans and Papyrus, and now he needs it back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), W. D. Gaster/Sans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Apéritif</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was meant to be a oneshot but took on a life of its own. I keep seeing Father's Day marketing, and it has me in a big ol' angsty mood apparently. My oneshot morphed into a full-fledged vent!fic, and I got carried away from there.</p><p>So now I have two simultaneous UT fics going, I GUESS.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It was sudden.</p><p> </p><p>Sans was napping at his station, the one nearest the Ruins. He had his head on his arms and his slippered feet hooked over the lowest rung on his stool. He’d pulled his hood up to keep the sun out of his eyes. It was when it was pulled down that he woke.</p><p> </p><p>“what’s up?” Sans stretched his arms ahead of himself, popping some of the stiffness from his joints.</p><p> </p><p>No one answered.</p><p> </p><p>There was definitely someone back there, though. Someone had pulled his hood down. Someone was throwing a shadow over him that was tall and slim.</p><p> </p><p>They tugged on his hood again, harder this time.</p><p> </p><p>“papyrus?” Sans guessed despite every instinct in him saying that it wasn’t, telling him to go. Now.</p><p> </p><p>He turned.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever it was pulled on his hood again before he could get a good look at it. It pulled <em> hard </em>. The stool toppled. Sans' world turned sideways and his back hit the snow. Reflexively, he grabbed at his collar. Whatever stood behind him was still hanging on to his hood, and it was choking him. This wasn’t Papyrus. This wasn’t anyone who meant him anything other than harm. Sans reached for his magic.</p><p> </p><p>And that was a mistake.</p><p> </p><p>It sparked something. The thing pulled his hood again. And this time it kept pulling. Sans’ hands kept scrabbling at his collar as he was dragged through the snow. A slipper came off. His shin collided painfully with a tree. He struggled, but it just kept dragging him faster and faster. It was like it was effortless for the thing… And then, abruptly, it wasn’t. Its grip faltered. Its arm seemed to shudder then go limp entirely.</p><p> </p><p>Sans dropped. His skull bounced off something hard beneath fresh snow. A rock probably. His breath left him, and his vision sputtered. When the latter returned, the capacity for the former did as well. But he still didn’t breathe. He didn’t dare.</p><p> </p><p>Inches from his face loomed a shape. Bone white, grinning, familiar. So familiar.</p><p> </p><p>It was a face, he decided. It was difficult to tell. Its features crawled and squirmed and never appeared to quite sit still. They dripped but didn’t seem beholden to gravity. Little by little its face shifted, simultaneously rising and falling and swirling in on itself.</p><p> </p><p>Its height was a difficult thing to gauge. It was larger than Sans, to be sure. It was stooped over him. The rest of its body — what he could see of it anyway — was a black mass.</p><p> </p><p>Sans found his voice. “if you wanted my attention, you coulda just tapped me on the shoulder or cleared your throat.” He ached something awful all over after the little trip that thing had just taken him on. It could have dusted him. It wasn’t like he had much in the way of HP. Being amiable was generally his go-to. He didn’t have any intention of being friends with this thing, but it didn’t have to know that. “hey, buddy, you wanna take a step back, maybe?” Sans heard his voice tremble slightly. He hoped the thing grinning at him hadn’t noticed too.</p><p> </p><p>Its mouth was empty, a dark, yawning abyss. It’s eyes were the same. At least, that’s what Sans thought at first. Upon closer inspection, he could see tiny pinpricks of light. They were growing wider, taking up more of his empty sockets. ‘Getting closer’ his mind told him. Like a horrible, heavenly body crashing to Earth.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Footsteps and then blackness through his telescope lens. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “if you take a few steps back, i might be able to see to do that through the eyepiece.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’M NOT IN THE MOOD, SANS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Reluctantly, Sans raised his head. “yeah?” He tried to sound bored even though he was anything but. His pulse quickened. He knew what he would ask. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “WHERE’S PAPYRUS?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yep. That was it. “the west lab. probably already there by now. you need him for something?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “WHY IS HE AT THE WEST LAB?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “your boys on the third floor needed one of us to go and i didn’t wanna.” Sans shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “so did you need him or what?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I DID.” Dr. Gaster looked away, muttering to himself, taking both sides in a brief and private debate before turning his gaze back on Sans. “BUT I SUPPOSE YOU’LL HAVE TO DO.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On his back in the snow, Sans choked out the name. “g-gaster?” There was a traitorous tremor in the timbre of his voice. The name felt strange in his mouth. He hadn’t said it in so long.</p><p> </p><p>Pinpricks of light in empty sockets dilated. The grin widened.</p><p> </p><p>“do you think you could let me up?”</p><p> </p><p>There was a hand on his sternum. There was no weight on it. It hovered there like the face so near to Sans’ own, immovable. Gaster gave no indication that he planned on moving it at Sans’ request either. He only stared.</p><p> </p><p>“please?” asked Sans, hating how small the words sounded when shaped by his mouth. They hung in the air between the two of them, crystallizing with his breath and breaking across the terrible death mask Doctor Gaster’s face had become since their days together in the lab.</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>Sans turned his head, left cheekbone to the snow. But Gaster followed, his face gliding down until it rested in the snow across from him, still only inches away.</p><p> </p><p>“please?” Sans shut his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SANS. WHERE ARE YOU?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “over here, doc.” Sans didn’t look up from his clipboard even though he had been listening for Gaster for the last forty-five minutes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “WHERE’S YOUR BROTHER?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “went camping with the interns.” Sans checked off an item on his clipboard without paying attention to what it was. He tucked it under one arm and set about carefully putting slides of DNA and magic samples in their designated containers. It didn’t need to be done. He would need to take them all back out again as soon as Gaster left, but he wanted to keep busy. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “CAMPING?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “sure. marshmallows, tents, scary stories by the fire.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I KNOW WHAT CAMPING IS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “have you ever been? sounds kinda fun.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’M NOT AN IDIOT.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “whoa. when did anyone say that?” He gave Gaster what he hoped was an incredulous look. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster regarded him wearily. He held up a finger and said his next words slow, “BE CAREFUL.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans dropped the act. “just give me a second to finish up here, okay? we’ll talk in your office.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster corrected him, “NO SANS, YOU’LL COME WITH ME NOW.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “sure.” Sans sighed. “why not? it’s not like i was trying to get work done or anything.” He tossed his clipboard onto the nearest counter. A box of slides toppled. Gaster didn’t spare it a second glance, not even when a couple of slides hit the floor with a musical tinkling that suggested they had shattered. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was more important work to do. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Open your eyes. You are not someone who cowers. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sans turned his face from the snow and opened his eyes. “what do you want?” This was bad. It would be worse if he let himself simply shut down in fear. Maybe Gaster could be reasoned with.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>The question seemed to catch the doctor by surprise, at least. His head tilted back slightly in a boneless parody of a mannerism Sans remembered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"SOUL.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">LET ME SEE."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>It had been a long time since Sans had heard this particular manner of speaking. It must have been longer still since Gaster had last spoken. The words didn’t come from his mouth so much as they just crackled into existence and floated around for a while before dissolving to static.</p><p> </p><p>Sans laughed both despite and because absolutely nothing about any of this was funny. “i don’t think so.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"OWE ME."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Speech appeared difficult for Gaster. Not just vocalizing the words. Even his thoughts seemed discordant.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"YOUR FAULT."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Sans winced. It was in his best interest to keep an open mind right now. “what do you need with it?”</p><p> </p><p>Gaster pressed down on Sans’ sternum. Not hard. It didn’t hurt, but he saw the promise that it could when he looked into the lights of Gaster’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“use your words.” Sans waited several moments… and then several more. “not doing you any favors unless you can tell me what this is for.”</p><p> </p><p>Gaster didn’t elaborate. He only stared at Sans. Sans stared back.</p><p> </p><p>It should have been shocking, seeing him like this. But then, it wasn’t a surprise, was it? No, not if he was being honest with himself. He had felt someone watching him, seen a dark shape out of the corner of his eye. He had wandered into parts of the Underground that were wholly unfamiliar and geometrically impossible. He had felt fingers on his back and smelled cigarettes and coffee where none had been brewed.</p><p> </p><p>Gaster’s hold on time and space was tenuous. If Sans looked away for long enough he might even slip his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“gaster…” Sans swallowed and, slowly, very slowly put a hand over the one the doctor had on his chest. The rest of him was much changed, but his hand felt startlingly familiar. “no need for threats. let me up. i’ll help you if i can.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"LIAR."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The hand beneath Sans’ pressed down, and this time it did hurt.</p><p> </p><p>That was enough. Sans wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t going to convince Gaster of that on his back in the snow, prone and completely at his mercy. Using his magic earlier hadn’t helped. He hoped that using it now wasn’t a mistake.</p><p> </p><p>It was.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t teleport as intended. When his magic converted to energy it surged, most of it dispersing into the snowy ground beneath him, some of it conducting up through Gaster with a hum and a crackle and a soft white glow.</p><p> </p><p>Behind his left eye, Sans felt a sudden and sharp pain. It flickered in and out. He shut it tight until it stopped, letting out an involuntary yelp when he open it back. Gaster was centimeters away rather than inches. He stared, unblinking into Sans’ left eye socket.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"GIVE IT BACK."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Sans shut his eyes. Again, he thought to himself, <em>Open your eyes. You are not someone who cowers.</em></p><p> </p><p>But clearly he was.</p><p> </p><p>“i’ll help you,” he said again, taking care to enunciate each word. His voice was shaking, and he wanted to make sure that Gaster understood him. “i never wanted any of this. i’ve been looking for a way to fix it.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"NO."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“that’s the truth. i—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"YOU GAVE UP."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“i…” It was difficult to sound convincing when he couldn’t bare to even look at his assailant. He kept his eyes shut anyway. Gaster was still unbearably close. He could feel the warmth of his breath and smell the ghosts of familiar scents on it. Coffee, cigarettes, old books, new printer paper. Nostalgia made his chest tight. “let me up and i’ll help. you’re not getting anything out of me otherwise.”</p><p> </p><p>No response.</p><p> </p><p>“fine. i was taking a nap before you showed up anyway. i’ll go back to that.”</p><p> </p><p>No response.</p><p> </p><p>Sleep felt unwise and unlikely, but what else could be do? Gaster was scattered across many realities, manifesting physically in only one had to be taxing. Using his magic had probably only made it easier for him. Gaster had leeched it. Everything Sans had, Gaster had given to him. Everything.</p><p> </p><p>It made sense that he <em> could </em>take it back. It made sense that he would.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “DO YOU KNOW WHERE PAPYRUS IS?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The question stirred Sans. It was a question he listened for, one he could answer with excuses already prepared. Except… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i don’t know.” Sans said the words aloud as the realization struck him. To his right two figures turned in his direction. His head hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “OF COURSE YOU DON’T. WHY WOULD YOU?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why would he? “what?” That didn’t make sense. He always knew where Papyrus was, and— Dammit, his head hurt Sans put a hand to the side of his skull and felt something soft there. Fabric? He couldn’t see out of his left eye. “I don’t know,” he repeated, an appeal this time. He needed help. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He sat up. He was on a cot, he realized, in what looked like one of the basement labs. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster regarded him from near the door, his expression unreadable. The figure with him hurried forward. “O-oh, d-don’t do that. You should lay down. T-try to relax.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A clawed hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. He slapped it away reflexively then paused, his one good eye on the laminated badge on the lanyard they wore. High clearance. He recognized the face and the name. “Alphys?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Right.” Alphys gave him a nervous smile. “H-how are you feeling? Do you—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “ALPHYS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster beckoned her back over to the door. Alphys looked from Sans to her boss and then back again. “But…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “HE’S FINE. THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME HE’S WOKEN UP. COME HERE, PLEASE. WE WERE TALKING.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans’ head felt impossibly heavy. He lowered himself down on his right side, watching as Alphys made her way back over to Gaster. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOU WERE SAYING?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Huh?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “PAPYRUS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “O-oh, right. He’s upstairs. H-he’s l-looking for you and Sans. I think he knows y-you’re down here, but he doesn’t h-have the clearance for some reason.” Alphys fidgeted with the badge hanging around her neck. “I c-could bring him down if you want.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “NO. TELL HIM WE’RE WORKING LATE TONIGHT. TELL HIM TO GO HOME.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alphys looked back at Sans, hands twisting harder than ever at her lanyard. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster cocked his head as if her hesitance in all of this puzzled him. “GO ON.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I-I just… I’m not sure…” She was looking at Sans. “Maybe I should just let Papyrus know that-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SANS.” Gaster turned in his direction, and Sans jumped. He had been removed from all of this since lying back down, watching their conversation as if from a very great distance. Hearing his name sent him crashing back to himself, back to his aching head. “DO YOU WANT PAPYRUS TO COME DOWN HERE?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “no.” Sans answered immediately and firmly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “THERE YOU ARE THEN.” Gaster swept an arm toward the door, motioning again for her to leave. “I APPRECIATE YOUR ASSISTANCE, BUT I WOULD LIKE SOME PRIVACY NOW.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alphys left. The door closed. Gaster made his way to the cot where Sans rested. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He stopped. Sighed. Looked down at him. “YOUR BROTHER WOULD HAVE BEEN THE BETTER CHOICE FOR THIS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans was beginning to feel very far away again, but he could also feel Gaster fussing with the bandages. He leaned into him. “my head hurts.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “GOOD.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“SANS!”</p><p> </p><p>Sans’ eyes snapped open.</p><p> </p><p>“SANS?!” Papyrus called his name. It wasn’t urgent. His voice was coming from the direction of Sans’ station. He was probably just passing by, seeing if his brother was there. Sans heard a frustrated huff that supported that theory. “HONESTLY, WHAT A MESS,” grumbled Papyrus. Sans could picture him righting the stool that had fallen over, maybe picking up some empty snack packages no doubt cluttering the station counter.</p><p> </p><p>Above him, Sans saw Gaster turn in the direction of the sound. He’d made no move to keep Sans from calling for help. He wouldn’t. They both knew that. If anything, Gaster seemed poised to move, ready to abandon Sans entirely for more promising prey. He wasn’t making any progress here. Sans didn’t want to think Gaster would dust him, but he could… and then…</p><p> </p><p>“hey.” Sans’ voice was barely a whisper, drawing Gaster’s attention once more.</p><p> </p><p>Gaster’s head snapped back in his direction.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"NOT SLEEPING?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Had </em>he managed to fall asleep? How long had it been? The forest seemed darker now, colder. Not night yet, but getting close. “guess not.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"SOUL."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Papyrus wasn’t calling his name anymore. Sans thought he heard the crunch of his footsteps retreating. But he would be back. At some point tonight, he would be back. It could be hours. It could be minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Sans moved a hand to his chest and pushed apart his jacket. He felt his ribs beneath his shirt. “are you going to kill me?”</p><p> </p><p>Gaster had been watching Sans’ hand. He looked up when Sans spoke, head tilted in a quizzical fashion.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"NO."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He raised a flickering hand and touched it to Sans’ cheekbone, thumb at the corner of his mouth. It felt like static, like being touched by white noise.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"OF COURSE NOT."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Sans wasn’t sure if the words came from a place of affection or disbelief that he believed Gaster would be so merciful, that death would be enough after what Sans had done.</p><p> </p><p>“if i do this, what will you do next?” Will you stay away from Papyrus? The questions he wanted to ask felt unsafe, like they might give Gaster ideas.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"WE’LL SEE."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“will my soul be enough?” Will you need to take something from Papyrus too?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"WE’LL SEE."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>If there was a solution here, he wasn’t seeing it. All he knew for certain was that he wanted Gaster gone when Papyrus came back. Sans flicked his wrist, calling magic to magic to pull his SOUL from his body and out into the open air.</p><p> </p><p>“i meant it when i said i would help, you know?” Sans watched Gaster sit back and raise his SOUL to eye level. “i’ve missed…” He trailed off, uncertain. He missed home. He missed his job and his friends. The happiest years of his life had been spent working under Gaster. But had that been because of or despite him? “i still care about you.” That was true, at least.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="aster">"NOT ENOUGH."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>That was probably true too.</p><p> </p><p>Gaster had removed his hand from Sans’ chest, but he still knelt upon him as he worked. White light diffused as Gaster unspun his SOUL into chromatic strings of binary. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel uniquely uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“what are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>“gaster?”</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>He felt tired. His body felt heavy, so he surrendered more of it to gravity, sinking further into the snow. There was always more tension to release, more of you to let go of until you’re both figuratively and literally dead weight.</p><p> </p><p>His eyelights flickered in then out, in then out. Sometimes he would catch a brief image of Gaster pulling hard at something. When it did he felt it, a jolt through his magic. It spidered out through the subtle stuff of him, made his joints spasm and his legs jump.</p><p> </p><p>Still, it didn’t hurt. It only felt strange.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Amuse-bouche</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not sure this fic really has an audience, but I've already written this much so, um, here we go...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It felt strange when Gaster and his team ran their tests. Not that Sans knew it was strange then. That realization only came with recollection. In the moment, there was no basis for comparison. It was all new. Everything was new. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He wasn’t quite sure how old he was when Gaster brought him home. Plenty of monsters aged differently from one another, though it didn’t take Sans long to get the impression that he and his brother experienced their youth much differently than even other skeletons. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> But he didn’t have Papyrus then. Not yet. There was only Gaster, and it was a subject of much debate when he took him home. Gaster’s colleagues thought it was a bad idea. They would draw out Sans’ SOUL, CHECK it, and motion emphatically to the number that hovered there. 1 HP. In Sans’ earliest memories, it seemed like they were CHECKING his SOUL constantly, like they were hoping that number would suddenly change. It didn’t. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> But Gaster had the final say in the matter. He brought shoes that were uncomfortable and clothes that were only slightly too big. They left, and everything was new again. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It wasn’t that he hadn’t been outside before. There was a courtyard upstairs that he had been taken to more than once. Led there by two or three fretful scientists or, alternatively, Gaster. Alone and taking a decidedly more hands off approach. He would sit on a bench and watch as Sans discovered things. Rocks, bugs, ketchup packets left behind on abandoned lunch trays. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> There was more to discover outside of the lab. So much more. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> New faces, different floors, green wallpaper, a broken water fountain, a vending machine, more new faces, carpet, wide open spaces, roads, cars. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gaster navigated him past distractions, putting a hand atop his skull and steering him in the correct direction when necessary. When the outdoors proved a bit too overwhelming, he picked him up. Sans held tight to the lapels of his lab coat. He pressed his face to Gaster’s shoulder, watching the world from the safety his arms afforded him. He was so much bigger than Sans, and he knew so much. It made Sans feel protected. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Over the years, Sans would grow in all the ways children do. Gaster would remain taller, though. And smarter. And over the years, that grew less comforting. But Sans didn’t know that then. Gaster felt safe, so that’s what he was. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Sans kept holding tight when they reached the house Gaster called home. His home now too. Home to a woman as well, one with a name Sans didn’t remember and a face he couldn’t recall. She stood in the living room with her hands on her hips, angry but mostly exhausted. “I said no.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “WE DISCUSSED THIS.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “And I said no. I can’t do this again!” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She left that night and returned only twice more. The final time, she carried boxes to a shiny black car waiting outside. Only once she was gone did Sans creep downstairs. Gaster sat slumped in the armchair near the bookshelf. A bottle sat on the side table and a tumbler of amber liquid, one that he drained then refilled. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It took him nearly a full minute to notice Sans. When he did his eyelights brightened. He watched him, took another sip from the tumbler, and observed a bit longer. “SEEMS IT’S JUST US.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> That didn’t sound so bad to Sans, but it looked like it bothered Gaster. He looked tired. Lonely would have been a better descriptor, but Sans wouldn’t recognize the complexities of that particular emotion for some time yet. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He went to Gaster and leaned against the arm of the chair. He didn’t know how to help, but knew that he should and supposed being near to Gaster was a good start. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gaster regarded Sans thoughtfully before shifting over. Sans promptly climbed onto the chair beside him, perching on the arm. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “IT’S FINE,” sighed Gaster. “IT IS WHAT IT IS.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “is she coming back?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “PROBABLY NOT.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “is it because of me?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “YES.” He took another sip from his glass, inclining his head to one side as he swallowed, reconsidering. “MOSTLY.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “mostly?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “SHE DOESN’T WANT ANOTHER ONE OF YOU HERE. SHE THINKS IT’S TOO SOON.” He rested his glass on his knee, his long fingers slowly tracing the rim. Sans could see the amber liquid through the hole in his hand. “BUT I CREATED ALL OF YOU. I BROUGHT YOU ALL HERE. I SUPPOSE IT’S MY FAULT AS WELL.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Upstairs, Sans had a room. In it were clothes that had already been worn and toys that had already been played with. Sans folded his arms on the back of the armchair and rested his head on them. “were they my brothers?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I SUPPOSE.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “are you my dad?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Another measured look from Gaster. “HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “you made me.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I KNOW YOU KNOW THAT. I JUST SAID THAT. WHAT WERE YOU CREATED FROM?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “um.” Sans searched his memory. “a piece of you?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “YES.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “from…” In his earliest memories of Gaster, he recalled him with a bandage on his right hand. Sans sat up and raised the corresponding hand, flexing his fingers. “this?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “NO, THAT’S NOT YOU.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Sans leaned forward and touched Gaster’s left hand, nearly falling off the arm of the chair in the process. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gaster steadied him. “NO, THAT’S NOT YOU EITHER.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Sans scanned Gaster for any other missing pieces he hadn’t accounted for. Gaster didn’t wait for him to admit that he didn’t know. There was no telling how long that might have taken. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “I USED ONE OF MY RIBS FOR YOU.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Reflexively, Sans touched a hand to his sternum and felt his ribs through his shirt. “why?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “IT WASN’T SOMETHING I HAD TRIED BEFORE. AFTER A CERTAIN POINT, YOU JUST START THROWING THINGS AT A WALL, SEEING WHAT STICKS. MY TRIES AT THIS ARE FINITE, OF COURSE. I ONLY HAVE SO MUCH OF MYSELF THAT I CAN SPARE, BUT…” Gaster looked to the bookshelf nearby. “THERE’S A HUMAN MYTH I READ. IN IT, GOD USED A RIB FOR ONE OF HIS CREATIONS. IT SEEMED TO WORK OUT RATHER WELL FOR HIM. I…” He looked back to Sans, his eyes dimming from the alcohol or melancholy or both. “I DIDN’T HAVE AS MUCH LUCK AS HE DID. IT WON’T BE AN EXPERIMENT I REPEAT.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “so… you’re my dad?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gaster’s chest rose and fell slowly as he took a very deep breath. “IF YOU WANT.” He sounded wearier now. “BUT DON’T USE THAT WORD. NOT AROUND PEOPLE.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “why not?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “IT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “why?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gaster poured himself another drink. “THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD QUESTION TO ASK MY WIFE.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “did my brothers call you dad?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “TWO DID… BUT ONLY BRIEFLY.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “wh-” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “DID YOU KNOW YOU STILL HAVE A BROTHER?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “no.” This was news to Sans, amazing news. “where is he?” Sans scanned the room in case he had missed him somehow in the days he had been living there. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “AT THE LAB.” He held out the hand that had been Sans’ first guess at his own origins, palm to the ceiling. “THE RESULTS USING MY LEFT HAND WERE PROMISING. I SAVED THE RIGHT FOR… A PROJECT I FELT CONFIDENT ABOUT. SOME OF THE TEAM SAY IT DOESN’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE, THAT I’M JUST BEING SUPERSTITIOUS — A BAD TRAIT FOR A SCIENTIST, TO BE SURE — BUT THE RESULTS HAVE BEEN PROMISING. THEY CAN THINK WHAT THEY LIKE.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “will he come live here?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “EVENTUALLY,” said Gaster. “DO YOU WANT TO MEET HIM?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “yes.” And because the word didn’t feel like enough, he nodded emphatically. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “THEN YOU’LL NEED TO LISTEN TO ME VERY, VERY CAREFULLY AND DO ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING I SAY.” With his right hand, he touched Sans’ jaw, tilting his head upward slightly so that their eyes locked. “CAN YOU DO THAT?” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “i think so.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> And Sans did, mostly. Right up until he didn’t. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sans’ phone rang.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opened his eyes with some difficulty. His entire body felt sluggish, stiff… cold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was dark now. It had to have been hours since Gaster had pulled him from his station. Hours spent in the snow. He didn’t experience cold like fleshier monsters, but there were limits to that. His joints locked. New snow had settled over the parts of him Gaster was not crouched upon. He could feel the cold down to his marrow. That he could feel it at all, of course, was probably a good sign.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His phone rang again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t in his pocket. It must have fallen out nearer to the station. Most likely it was Papyrus. If he got worried enough, if he came out this way searching for his brother, he might hear it. He would realize that Sans was close. Gaster needed to be gone by then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“finished yet?” Even his jaw was stiff.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="aster">ALMOST.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaster was putting Sans’ SOUL back together, smoothing its edges down with his thumbs, molding it like clay. When he was satisfied with his work, he lifted Sans’ shirt. And, to his considerable surprise, Gaster put the SOUL back where it belonged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“what did you do?” Was he finished? Surely not.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaster held up a finger to silence him. He then proceeded to CHECK Sans. The numbers displayed between the two of them, blurrier than they usually looked. They fuzzed out entirely at moments, replaced momentarily with the symbols Gaster spoke. The numbers were also… numbers. Plural. Not 1 HP. Not anymore. No ones anywhere, just sixes. A long line of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sans didn’t think for a moment that Gaster had just done him a kindness. It terrified him. He laughed, a manic sound that broke the silence once his phone stopped ringing. “don’t tell me ya coulda done that the whole time, doc.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaster waved a hand. The numbers disappeared. He looked down at Sans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“what now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaster touched the exposed ribs where he had pushed up Sans’ shirt to return his SOUL.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="aster">FLESH,</span> he said, and his grin widened imperceptibly. He had been waiting for this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sans pressed himself to the snow, but there was only so far he could move away from Gaster. “i don’t know what you’re—” He stopped. He did know what Gaster wanted, he realized. “why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="aster">FLESH.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“what are you going to do?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="aster">NOW.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“please don’t…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His phone rang, and this time Gaster turned toward the sound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sans surrendered. He forced his stiff bones to cooperate, and made his magic manifest. Shoulders, arms, torso. Blue ectoflesh rose from his bones to encase them. He hissed in a breath when he got to his shins and felt them against the snow. He laughed miserably again. “this is real cold of ya.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaster chuckled. Not a pleasant sound given the circumstances.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“can we go somewhere else? hotland maybe?” Somewhere warm, somewhere far, far away from Papyrus.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="aster">THE CORE PERHAPS?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh. He looked away. “i’m sorry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="aster">ARE YOU?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you made it this far, please consider leaving a comment. They improve my day and let me know whether or not people want to see more.</p>
<p>You can find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/MsId38783604 Still pretty new to interacting with the fandom and using Twitter in general.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shank</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welp, this definitely isn’t a oneshot anymore. I have a decent idea of where I’m going. And that direction does eventually have fontcest in it. So fair warning there… Though, if the other tags didn’t already turn you away, what’s another problematic one? Anyway, here’s another chapter. I’m weirdly self-conscious about it.</p><p>Apparently, I'm going with alternating between the present and the past. Really hope this doesn't get confusing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Sans had never and would never love anything as much as he loved Papyrus. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This was true even after Papyrus nearly murdered him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster was hard on Papyrus. He expected great things from him. Papyrus was already great. Sans assured him of this, but Gaster had a very narrow view on greatness. He grew annoyed when asked the same question more than once. He had no patience for how restless his youngest offspring could be, how easily bored. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When Gaster needed something, Sans was usually the one he delegated tasks to. If he left them alone for any extended period of time, it was Sans that he put in charge. On the occasion that he taught them something, Sans would pick it up first and would be entrusted with making sure Papyrus comprehended the lesson after Gaster gave up. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOU’RE HIS FAVORITE,” Papyrus sulked into his pillow more than once, face down in their shared room, throwing a tantrum as quietly as possible. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans always assured him that that wasn’t true, but Papyrus was stubborn. There was a stretch of time when he decided that Sans was his rival and that he wouldn’t be speaking or playing games with him anymore. It lasted all of three hours, ending abruptly when Sans tried to confront him about it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus was stomping upstairs with his math workbook rather than completing it with Sans in the fort he’d made under the kitchen table. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “why are you acting like this ?” Sans grabbed at Papyrus’ arm, but he shook him off. Papyrus had longer legs than he did. He was a lot faster at climbing stairs. Sans hurried and managed to catch up with him at the landing. “i didn’t even do anything to you. you’re being stupid.” He grabbed Papyrus by the arm again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “LEAVE ME ALONE!” When Papyrus shook him off this time, he did so hard. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It forced him a step back. He grabbed for the railing, but it wasn’t like the lab. There wasn’t one. His knee hit the corner of the step and he fell right over the side. He heard Papyrus gasp and saw the carpet rush up to meet him and then… A hard tug at his chest. He was weightless. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He floated upward several feet, coming face to face with Gaster’s outstretched hand. He had caught him and was still holding him aloft with magic. Something about his posture, how tense he was, how wide his eyes were ate at Sans’ nerves. Gaster looked scared. That was the first time he had seen Gaster scared. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Everything that had happened caught up with Sans just then. Suddenly and completely against his will, he found himself sobbing. At the top of the stairs, Papyrus began to cry as well. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster sighed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans heard footsteps on the stairs but they stopped abruptly when Gaster threw a stern look upwards. “NO. I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU SHORTLY. GO WAIT IN YOUR ROOM.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I DIDN’T—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOUR ROOM PAPYRUS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A sniffle came from above but no objections. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster turned his attention back to Sans. “QUIET.” He turned his wrist in small, subtle movements, rotating Sans, looking him over. “YOU NEED TO BE CAREFUL. WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS. YOU’RE LUCKY I’M NOT SWEEPING YOU UP OFF THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans had been trying to stop crying ever since he started, but that set him off again. He sobbed harder. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “STOP THAT. YOU SEEM FINE.” Gaster regarded the floating child for a few moments before crossing the room to his arm chair. He knelt down in front of it and lowered Sans into the chair itself. He sank a little into the cushion when Gaster released his SOUL. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kneeling, Gaster was eye-level with Sans. He swallowed another sob and looked down at his feet. They didn’t quite reach the floor. Shame burned in him. He was supposed to listen to Gaster, do as he was told, follow the rules. He had promised. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “DOES ANYTHING HURT?” Gaster put a finger beneath Sans’ chin and tapped, prompting him to stop staring at the ground and pay attention. “SANS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “um.” Sans took a shuddering breath. Did anything hurt? He tried to take a quick inventory of how he felt under all the anxiety making him shaky, electric. “m-my knee?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOUR KNEE HURTS?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans nodded. He remembered it banging into the corner of the top step when he fell. Now that the shock of all that had happened was wearing off, he could feel it throbbing. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster took Sans’ ankle in one hand and touched his knee with the other. For the next few seconds, he bent and straightened, pushed and prodded. He CHECKED Sans’ SOUL but did so faster than Sans could follow. He was still focused on regaining his composure, scrubbing his hands across his face to wipe away the wetness there. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOU’LL LIVE.” Gaster started to stand but stopped. He lowered himself back down into a crouch. “I’M SURE THE PAIN WILL GO AWAY ON ITS OWN, BUT LET’S SEE WHAT I CAN DO.” He touched Sans’ knee again and this time his hand glowed green. Warmth fell from his fingers. It felt wonderful. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “YOU’RE STILL A CHILD. THESE THINGS HAPPEN. I SUPPOSE I COULD CONFINE YOU TO A SMALLER, SAFER AREA. THOUGH, IF I WAS GOING TO DO THAT, I MAY AS WELL JUST TAKE YOU BACK TO THE LAB.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was saying “you,” but it sounded like he was talking to himself. Gaster did that sometimes, but Sans was unable to keep himself from responding regardless. “i don’t want to go back to the lab! i like it here!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I NEVER SAID I WAS GOING TO TAKE YOU BACK TO THE LAB. WASTE OF RESOURCES. THE TEAM FAMILIAR WITH YOU HAS ALREADY BEEN REASSIGNED TO ANOTHER PROJECT, SO…” Gaster shook his head. “WAIT HERE A MOMENT WHILE I SPEAK WITH YOUR BROTHER.” He took his hand from Sans’ knee. It no longer hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i don’t think that Papyrus….” But Sans trailed off. The look Gaster gave him as he stood wasn’t terribly encouraging. He didn’t care about what Sans had to say. He would be going upstairs regardless. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “WE CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT HP, BUT WE SHOULD WORK ON YOUR AGILITY,” Gaster mused aloud as he walked to the stairs. “I WON’T ALWAYS BE THERE TO SAVE YOU.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Gaster had one hand on his ankle, where the ecto-flesh tapered back down into bone. His other hand, he rested on Sans’ knee.</p><p> </p><p>“gaster?” It was hard to talk through his chattering teeth. It was an alien sensation, this cold. It made it difficult to focus on Gaster and what he might do next. He felt his hands on his leg. He preferred the snow. Gaster wasn’t as cold, but his touch was excruciating in other ways.</p><p> </p><p>Sans propped himself up on his forearms to try and see what he was doing. Gaster wasn’t crouched over his chest anymore. He had slightly more freedom. At least for now.</p><p> </p><p>The hand on his knee slid upward. Through the hole in Gaster’s palm, in the shadows, his flesh was a dark blue. It dimpled under his fingers when he squeezed.</p><p> </p><p>“stop!” Sans reached for Gaster with one hand, still supporting himself with the other. His fingers brushed the black hem of his coat. He opened his hand to grab it, but then Gaster bit down.</p><p> </p><p>Sans screamed.</p><p> </p><p>There was pressure on his shin, the press of flat, white bone working in unison. Static. It felt like dense static pressing down, down, down. Not sharp. His teeth weren’t sharp. It might have been better if they were.</p><p> </p><p>Sans cried out for him to stop, but the words were so stretched out and stammered that even he barely knew what he was saying.</p><p> </p><p>His flesh yielded. Not all at once, but little by little. Gaster’s teeth found purchase. They closed around a mouthful, and they pulled.</p><p> </p><p>The pain that rocked through Sans sent him reeling backward. He found himself in the snow again. The tops of trees blurred. His spine arched. Something warm gushed around his newly formed calf as Gaster dismantled it with his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere, not so far away, his phone began to ring again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans stood at the base of the stairs long after Gaster had come back down them from his conversation with Papyrus. His hands worked at the hem of his t-shirt, twisting and untwisting it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know what Gaster had said, but he hadn’t heard the door to their room open again. Papyrus was still in there. Possibly angry. He’d heard raised voices, though the words had been too muffled by closed doors and distance to make out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans took a deep breath. He was the elder brother. That meant something. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Granted, it meant less literally than he had hoped it would. Papyrus had started off shorter than Sans. That hadn’t lasted for long. But still… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans started up the stairs. He got to the second step before he reconsidered, sat down, and scooted his way up to the second floor. He continued on to their room on foot afterward, not giving himself a chance to hesitate any longer. If Papyrus was still mad at him, then… tough. He’d just have to get over it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus was sitting at the writing desk near the window. His head shot up from his hands when the door opened. “SANS!” His eye sockets had the sheen to it that they got whenever he’d been crying for a while. He was visibly upset, but he didn’t look angry. He got up from his chair so fast that it toppled over to the carpet as he sprinted to Sans and threw his arms around him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was a crushing hug, one that took Sans right off his feet when Papyrus straightened up. “I’MSOSORRYI’MSOSORRYI’MSOSORRY!” His words all slurred together in a sniffly rush. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If Sans’ arms hadn’t been pinned to his side, he would have hugged him back. Instead, he just hung there awkwardly while Papyrus rambled on. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I DIDN’T MEAN FOR— I DIDN’T— WHAT IF I’D—” Papyrus started crying in earnest again. His limbs gave out and he sank to the floor, bringing Sans with him. “I’M THE WORST BROTHER.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “that’s not— no!” Now that his arms were free, Sans returned the hug. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I DIDN’T MEAN TO— I DIDN’T-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i know!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE— WHAT IF I-” Papyrus squeezed Sans tighter. It rather hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i’m fine.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When Papyrus spoke again, his voice was unusually quiet, “i don’t want to live here without you. i can’t live here without you.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, forcing some distance between them so he could look him in the eye. “what are you talking about ?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tears were still brimming in Papyrus’ sockets. Above them, his eyelights looked off to one side, avoiding Sans’ gaze as if ashamed or embarrassed or both. “I DON’T THINK HE LIKES ME.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “of course he does.” Gaster was busy a lot, but he still fed them and clothed them and let them have their own room, their own toys, their own little piece of the house that was theirs. It wasn’t like the lab. It wasn’t like the lab at all. There he had been a creation, here he was being trained to create. What he wasn’t sure yet, but something . Science, probably. Gaster approved. He even called Sans into his home-lab downstairs sometimes, held him up so that he could see prototypes in action. The whir and clink of little moving parts, the smell of coffee brewing on the desk in the corner as Gaster pointed to things and explained their function. “he’s our dad. he loves us.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Papyrus sniffed loudly and continued looking off to one side. “HE LOVES </em> YOU <em> .” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “that’s not true.” It wasn’t, was it? Papyrus was so important to Gaster. He talked about him so much. He took him to the basement lab too, but Papyrus only described tests when he came back, never the wonders that were down there. But that didn’t mean Gaster didn’t love them. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Sans was observant. Sometimes Gaster laughed at his jokes. Sometimes he brought them home something new. Sometimes, if he was in his arm chair, they could bring him a book and he would read it. He and Papyrus could each climb up onto an arm of the chair and Sans would lean against Gaster’s shoulder and read along in his head as Gaster read aloud and there wasn’t much in the world that was better than that. “why would anyone love me and not you? that doesn’t make sense.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus sniffed again, and this time he finally looked back at Sans. “YOU’RE RIGHT. THAT WOULDN’T MAKE SENSE. I’M AMAZING.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “yep.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “AND SINCE I’M SO AMAZING, IT’S MY JOB TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “uh…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I PROMISE I WON’T PUSH YOU DOWN ANY MORE STAIRS.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “thanks?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus wiped his eyes on his sleeve. When he looked up again, it was with an unusually somber expression. “GASTER TOLD ME ABOUT OUR OTHER BROTHERS. THE ONES BEFORE US. HE SHOWED ME…” Papyrus shook his head. “IT DOESN’T MATTER. I’M NOT GOING TO LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU. I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU. YOU’LL BE SAFE.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The phone stopped ringing. Gaster took another bite.</p><p> </p><p>Sans screamed again. He could feel his HP drop. It was a sensation he had felt before but never like this. He could see the sixes stretching out forever in his mind. The numbers had to be falling. They had to be. He could feel his magic being stripped from his bones, but the bones themselves were solid. He should have been dust by now.</p><p> </p><p>Sans kicked with his good leg. Or tried to. Gaster snaked out an arm to push it back down. He shifted his weight onto it afterward, pinning it. The whole while, he kept chewing.</p><p> </p><p>Sans pushed himself onto his forearms again. He pushed hard, using the momentum to reach out and make a grab for Gaster’s skull, his coat, anything. It hurt so much. He just wanted it to stop.</p><p> </p><p>Gaster caught him by the wrist. This time he did raise his head from Sans’ leg. A strip of blue came with him, flecking Sans with red blood and black saliva that made his clothes smoke and his face burn. “stop,” he gasped, his breath hitching around the word. “p-please.”</p><p> </p><p>Gaster’s hand tightened around his wrist. He yanked him close and bit deep into his forearm.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans threw the door to the basement lab open. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster was standing at his desk, bracing himself against its edge, shoulders hunched. “NOT NOW, SANS,” he said with the sort of cold finality that implied he did not want to repeat himself. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The lab was a mess. Books had been pulled from shelves. Papers from an open filing cabinet carpeted the floor. One of the few chairs in the lab had been pulled out to the center of the room. A surgical tray sat next to it, full of instruments freshly used. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “what did you do ?” Sans had an idea, but he wanted to hear the specifics in Gaster’s own words. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster didn’t turn to face him. He only raised a hand and gave it a flick, shooing Sans away. “IT DOESN’T MATTER. IT DIDN’T WORK.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He continued in, stopping only when he was a few feet from Gaster. “it matters. tell me.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “NOT NOW. GO. IF YOU LEAVE, PERHAPS I’LL LET YOU SEE MY NOTES LA—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i don’t want to see your notes. i want you to tell me. did you do it on purpose ? i’ve only been working at the lab for a week. you waited until i was gone. why would you do that?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I BELIEVE YOU’VE JUST ANSWERED YOUR OWN QUESTION WITH THIS CHILDISH OUTBURST.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em> i’m <em> childish ? it looks like you threw a tantrum in here after you didn’t get the results you wanted and </em> i’m <em> childish ?” There was an open folder in front of him. Pages spilled out covered in the chaotic scrawl of his handwriting. His notes, no doubt. Sans reached for them, but Gaster caught him by the forearm the moment his hand got near. He didn’t let go, not even when Sans pulled. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i know you’re under a lot of stress right now, but that’s no excuse. papyrus isn’t your experiment. he’s your son, and—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “NO.” Gaster spun around, still holding on to Sans’ arm as he did so, wrenching it painfully in the process. “DON’T SAY THAT. YOU’RE NOT STUPID. YOU’RE NOT YOUR BROTHER. YOU CAN CALL ME WHATEVER YOU LIKE, BUT YOU ARE NOT MY CHILDREN. YOU ARE EXPERIMENTS BEFORE YOU ARE ANYTHING. AND I HOPE YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME SOMETHING ELSE. I TRULY DO, BUT THAT IS NOT YOUR PURPOSE. </em>THIS <em>IS YOUR PURPOSE.”<br/></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His hand was so tight around Sans’ arm. It hurt, but the pain felt distant as he looked around at the lab, at the papers and machinery and invasive medical equipment. “you don’t mean that.” But Sans knew that he had. He wanted to give Gaster a chance to reconsider, to find kinder words while remaining pragmatic. He could, couldn’t he ? He loved them at least that much, didn’t he? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “NO,” spat Gaster. “IF I’M TRULY BEING HONEST WITH MYSELF, I’M NOT SURE I WANT EITHER OF YOU TO MAKE SOMETHING ELSE OF YOUR LIVES. IT WILL MEAN I HAVE WASTED MINE. ALL THAT TIME AND ENERGY. ALL OF THE SACRIFICE, THE HOPES AND DREAMS OF OTHERS. IT’S ALL WASTED IF THIS ENDS IN FAILURE.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans could feel his raised arm shaking. Whether that was because of the emotions moving through him or how tightly Gaster was holding it, he couldn’t be sure. “well, i was a failed experiment from the start, and it sounds like papyrus is a disappointment, too. so i guess your life’s work kinda has been a total wash, huh?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “LEAVE. NOW. I WON’T TELL YOU AGAIN.” There was a momentary tightness around Sans’ SOUL as Gaster used both physical and magical force to shove him away. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans’ feet couldn’t quite find the ground. He flew backwards, throwing out an arm to catch himself as he fell. He felt, rather than heard, the snap. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was broken. He knew before he looked. He could feel the jagged edge of his ulna scraping against itself. He felt his radius tenting the fabric of his sleeve before he pulled it back. For several seconds, he just stared at it, at the jagged edges where something red and viscous oozed out from inside, hitting the tile floor in fat droplets. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How much HP damage did an injury like this do? Sans raised his left hand to his chest to try and CHECK himself, but it was difficult to feel, uncooperative. His vision swam. “dad?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> From the direction of his desk, Sans heard hands slam down on a hard wooden surface in exasperation. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans swallowed. He tried to bring his hand to his chest again. Instead, it remained numb and useless in his lap. “dad— i mean-” He shook his head, finding the time to feel stupid and childish even with everything else going on. “hey, doc, can y-you, uh—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was a bang on the desk again but, as his eyelights flickered in and out, Sans saw Gaster turn. A clipboard fell from his hand to clatter to the floor. For a moment he only stared, but then he crossed the room in several strides, dropping to his knees in front of Sans. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “NO.” Gaster held his arm steady with one hand and CHECKED his SOUL with the other. “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “am i dying?” Sans heard his voice crack with nervous laughter at the end of the question. “this is… this is such a stupid fucking way to die. you can fix this, right? you’re going to fix this?” The words poured out of him. Part of Sans was afraid that if he stopped talking he’d never start again. “what are you doing?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster’s hands hovered around his arm. They glowed green for a moment then stopped, dropping lower to touch the red substance cooling to a congealed, rusty brown on the floor. He touched a finger to it and then another to the splinted bone, where the red was bright. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “what are you—” Sans flinched away, choking on the end of the question. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I WONDER…” mused Gaster, and Sans saw that far away look in his eye that he got when something inspired him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans looked back, trying to determine how far it was to the door. He was going to die down here. Gaster was going to strip all the secrets he could from his body before he turned to dust, and he would die down here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans inched in the direction of the stairs, but he knew he wasn’t going to make it there. His eyes no longer flickered in and out. They were simply dim, so dim he wasn’t sure they hadn’t gone out completely and all he was seeing was the afterimage left behind. But no. He saw Gaster’s arms when they came down around him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “STOP STRUGGLING. YOU’RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What did it matter? He’d made it almost eighteen years with 1 HP. All Gaster’s warnings and rules and he’d been the one to get in the killing blow. Not that it had taken much. God, he was pathetic. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SANS!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster’s voice boomed and, instinctively, Sans surrendered. Gaster picked him up, but he didn’t take him far. He put Sans down in the chair he had undoubtedly used for Papyrus only earlier that day. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “no.” Dimly, Sans saw the surgical tray nearby. There was an echoing, metallic sound that told him Gaster was taking something from it. “i don’t want to be here.” He tried to get up, but Gaster planted a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him back against the seat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “HOLD STILL.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “i don’t want to be here.” He could feel his shirt being pulled up. He could feel a hand on his SOUL. He tried to get up again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “HOLD STILL!” Gaster pushed him back again, though not as efficiently this time. He still had one hand on Sans’ SOUL and another on what looked vaguely like a syringe. “PLEASE.” There was something desperate in his voice, pleading almost. It was strange. “YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “but i don’t.” Sans could feel tears on his cheekbones. He hadn’t realized the truth of those words until he said them out loud. “i don’t want to die down here. please take me somewhere else. anywhere. just don’t—” But then there was a sharp pain in his SOUL as Gaster pushed the syringe in and pushed the plunger down. Everything went dark. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SANS ?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was Papyrus’ voice that woke him. Sans opened his eyes. He saw the bookshelf in the living room. He saw the patterned carpet and the dark walls. It was night outside the windows, but the lamp nearby was switched on. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was in Gaster’s armchair, he realized. How he had gotten there was fuzzy. He was still dressed in the clothes he wore when he went in to work at the lab. His white coat had been removed, though. The right sleeve of his t-shirt had been rolled up, and… Gaster sat on the floor, back to the armchair, legs splayed out in front of him. The decanter of liquor that usually sat on top of the bookshelf was unstoppered on its side nearby, empty. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans’ right arm rested against Gaster’s shoulder, hand open and palm up. It was no longer broken. There was no sign than it had been. At least none that he noticed at first. He began to notice little things: a rust-colored crust of bodily fluids here, a used syringe there. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaster appeared to be asleep, hand balanced precariously on Sans’ forearm. It fell as Sans tried very carefully to extract his arm. Fortunately, he didn’t wake. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SANS?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This time, the fact that the voice belonged to Papyrus registered. Sans stood. He did so too quickly and had to hold on to the arm of the chair as he waited for his equilibrium to return to normal. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus was at the top of the stairs. Sans could make him out in the dark only by the white glow of his eyes. He was leaning against the wall. Sans had told him that he would be back in a minute, but he had no idea how many minutes ago that had been. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans crossed the room and climbed the stairs. His world got shaky again halfway up. He stopped and swayed and his SOUL grew warm in the grip of his brother’s magic. Now he was close enough to see Papyrus frown, his hand raised to keep Sans steady. He was leaning against the wall himself, looking better than the state Sans had left him in but still haggard. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “WERE THE TWO OF YOU… DRINKING?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sans continued the rest of the way up the stairs. “yeah.” He rubbed his right arm to remind himself that it was still whole. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus leaned down over his brother when he reached the landing. “YOU DON’T SMELL LIKE ALCOHOL.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “c’mon, pap.” Sans put a hand to the small of Papyrus’ back and gave him a gentle nudge towards their bedroom. “we should both be in bed.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus threw another look down the stairs, and Sans saw the longing in it. He didn’t complain about it like he had when they were kids, but he still found other ways to assert that Sans was the favorite. “DID THE TWO OF YOU TALK ?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “yeah. come on.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “DID YOU TALK ABOUT ME?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “yep. gaster thinks you should start coming to the lab with me.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Papyrus’ eyesockets widened. “REALLY?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “yeah, so you should get your rest.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That got Papyrus moving, at least. “WOWIE, I CAN’T BELIEVE HE AGREED TO THAT.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “you and me both.” Sans nudged Papyrus on ahead again, and this time he went. He was already going over what to say to Gaster in his head. Nearly being dusted could probably be cashed in for a favor, but this seemed like an ambitious one. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He took one last look over his should before following Papyrus. He froze. He couldn’t read Gaster’s expression from so far away, but he could tell that he was awake and that he was watching him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Gaster bit off the third and fourth finger on Sans’ right hand. Down to the second knuckle. There wasn’t even meat on them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are appreciated! They keep me going. Also, if you’re reading both of the fics I’m working on at the moment, let me know which you would rather see more of</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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